Take Me For A Ride
by OrangeShipper
Summary: Telephones, horses and back problems... naturally lead to kissing. Random post-CS fluff, vague S2 spoilers.


A/N: _We're not tired of fluff, yet, right? Well, I do hope not! Having gotten too impatient and posting All That is Left on Sunday, I needed to write something new for the mmmondaymadness LJ community, and so this happened!_

_Unashamed and pointless fluff, set about a month after the Christmas Special.  
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_Enjoy! :)_

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><p><strong>Take Me For A Ride<strong>

Matthew had grown quite used, by now, to Mary's calls. Either in the morning to arrange when they'd meet that day, or the evening if he'd stayed late at work and hadn't made it to the Abbey for dinner – in fact, it had rather got to the point that he'd feel quite disappointed if the day went by without Molseley's message of, "Telephone for you, Mr. Crawley – it's Lady Mary."

He liked to speak to her on the telephone. It was strange, how with the absence of all other sense of her his focus honed on her voice, soft in his ear but lent a strange weight by the telephone… When he was with her he didn't always pay attention to it, but with his eyes closed and the only thing in his awareness being her sweet, low voice – it was quite beautiful, just another beautiful part of her, and he enjoyed this unique method of appreciation. He had very little idea that the frequency of her calls bore testament to her similar appreciation of his own.

All that drove from his mind this morning, though, at his shock at her suggestion for what they might do today.

"Darling, I'm – I'm not even sure that I really _can_…"

"You braved Edith driving you to Malton along that dreadful track last week – it can hardly put your back at greater risk than that, if we take it slowly! You never know, it may even be good for it."

"Yes but – I've not tried since all that, I hadn't for years before that anyway – besides, I haven't got the proper attire. Anything suited I might have had, won't fit me well now."

"Oh, Matthew, no-one cares much about that sort of thing now. Anyway, we shan't be riding past Granny's front door, so you needn't fear being judged for it! I certainly won't mind what you wear!"

"I… I don't know, darling…"

"Come, dear, or I'll start to think you lied all those years ago – you're afraid I really will be a witness to your incompetence, this time!"

"I _do_ ride, Mary! Well – I don't, _now_, but – I can! I just haven't seemed to find the opportunity for years."

"Well, then! Please, Matthew. It's a fine day, and we've walked around the grounds and the village so many times."

"I must be mad. Alright."

"Excellent! Don't trouble to come here; I'll ride down with a horse for you in an hour – I'll have Mrs Patmore pack us some things for lunch. Bye, darling."

As he replaced the receiver with a fond sigh, Matthew supposed it was a very good job he loved her so much as he did.

He hadn't been wrong. He did look ridiculous, considering; and Molesley had looked rightly confused when Matthew had asked to change. In the lack of any proper sort of riding clothes, he settled for those best suited to outdoor pursuits that he owned – what he'd worn on the shoot, a month ago now on New Year's Day. It was a good job they wouldn't (he dearly hoped, for more reason than one) be riding anywhere they'd likely have an audience.

Poking distractedly at where he'd noticed frost had peeled the paint from a fence in the garden, Matthew heard the clop of hooves signalling Mary's approach before she reached the house. He straightened, and walked out to the drive just as she drew to a stop, a saddled horse for him in tow. Dressed in her well fitted black suit, long skirt and hat, perched imperiously on the fine black mare she'd had for the last year, she cut quite the figure.

"Hello!" She greeted him brightly. "See, darling, you don't look so…" Her words trailed off limply when he showed no sign of attention to her at all, only gazing obliviously at her with the trace of a smile on his lips. "What is it?"

Matthew blinked, as if suddenly coming to his senses, and turned an adoring smile upon her.

"I'm sorry, you look… just as you did."

"What?" She laughed despite her gentle frown, shaking her head at him.

"When I first came here," Matthew found his voice again, and grinned fondly. "You came in, when I'd said such a thoughtless thing, then you – insulted me, and left, and – looked just like that."

Mary's lips parted wordlessly. Blushing, she blinked down, overcome by the memory, recovering only moments later into a dazzling smile.

"Well – you deserved it!" she teased, though the way her eyes sparkled brightly proved she thought no ill of it now – not in the slightest. Matthew only shrugged, laughed – he could hardly deny it, glad as he was they were well past that, now – and after a brief fuss with hooks and clips and reins, managed to swing himself up into the saddle.

Mary twisted round, raising a cursory brow. "Alright, darling?"

"Seem to be," Matthew muttered, shifting a little 'til he settled into a comfortable position, limbs remembering it like a distant memory. He glanced down, checked himself, and looked up with an eager smile. "Right! Well, dear – after you!"

Mary smiled happily back at him, and they set off, trotting slowly through the village until they reached the more open country. Matthew hung behind a little – keeping an easy, measured pace, keeping to even ground, quite content to watch Mary just ahead of him. Every so often she'd turn, catch his eye, smile at his reassuring nod before continuing on. She'd canter ahead, take Velvet over a log or a ditch running through the field, and circle back to Matthew as they rode in companionable quiet. Their cheeks warmed against the cold February air, the remnants of frost glittered and crunched under their horses hooves in the bleak winter sunlight. All told, it was a beautiful day, and they were perfectly happy.

"Do you know," Mary called over her shoulder once, "I think you're only staying behind me so I shan't laugh at your clothes." Matthew dipped his head, chuckling at her affectionate teasing.

"The better to admire you, my darling," he called softly back, feeling a proud thrill as she seemed to falter just for a split-second. He loved the way she was still taken aback, as though she couldn't quite believe that he desired her, even now. It was only a moment before she slowed, allowing him to draw alongside, where she turned and arched an eyebrow.

"I wouldn't expect anything less," she breezed, before her put-on haughtiness melted into a glorious smile. "Truly, though, how are you managing? Is your back quite alright?"

Matthew looked ahead, frowning thoughtfully as he shifted up and down in the saddle, testing gingerly for any twinge or ache. Quite satisfied to himself, his lips lifted into a gentle smirk as his only response to Mary was to kick his heels suddenly, and take off ahead.

"Quite alright," he shouted back, grinning as he imagined her parted lips, wide eyes and frown of indignation as she picked up behind him. "Do keep up, my dear!"

His grin broke into a laugh as he felt the pleasant rush of exhilaration, with not even the slightest hope that he'd stay ahead of her. Now he'd settled back into it, found his stride, it really was fun – his confidence grew, and they chased one another back and forth, their laughter ringing over the quick, dull thud of hooves over earth.

Oh, maybe he shouldn't have, but the thrill and challenge of cold, biting wind and speed and _Mary_ tempted him, spurred him on. He hadn't ridden in _years_, and it felt _wonderful_. And he was happy – to hear her laugh, to experience this with her, to know that they had not just months but years of Saturdays ahead of them, winter and summer, to stay in or go out together, with (sometime in the future) a family beside them – joy raced through his veins, and he allowed it to drive him.

Just ahead of them, a brook crossed the bottom of the field. By now, to be more than usually careful was past his mind, and as Mary's mare sailed over it his natural thought was to follow. His horse was sure, steady, responsive, and Matthew cantered after them, feeling his heart leap in time as they jumped, and –

"God!"

The landing was hard, his horse stumbled landing on a rock; not enough to fall, but a jolt enough that it sent a hot spear of pain surging up his back.

"Matthew?" Mary wheeled around and saw him fighting to still Willow, his face a mask of pain.

"Mary, I need to – get off – bloody –" His words trailed into a curse and he gasped, tugging on the reins too hard which only made the mare protest under him, unable to think clearly as every jolt sharpened the fire in his spine.

"Darling!" She was at his side, leaning from Velvet to steady Matthew's horse with a sure hand and soothing voice, eyes wide in alarm. "What happened?"

"Nothing, she – stumbled, and I – don't know, jolted something I – suppose." Gasping again the pain with fiercely gritted teeth, he managed to ease himself to the ground, biting back a cry as he twisted to swing his leg over. "Ah…"

Swallowing back panic at seeing him in such pain, Mary slid from Velvet's back with ease, trusting the mare to stay close as she grasped Matthew's hands, steadying him as he sank to the floor and stretched onto his back, blinking fiercely up at the sky while he dragged off his cap, flinging it agitatedly to the side. When he'd first been wounded, when Mary had stayed with him, there hadn't been much pain – she knew there must have been some as his feeling started to return, but – Lavinia had been back by then, and… Oh, she couldn't bear to see him hurt like this!

"Can I – do anything? I'm so sorry; you said you weren't sure you should – darling –"

"No, no," he muttered through clenched teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as he straightened as much as he could bear, gripping Mary's hand fiercely. She hooked her other arm through both horse's reins, keeping them close as she knelt beside Matthew. "It's my own fault, shouldn't have – jumped. Damn! I'll be alright, just need to let it – straighten itself out."

Mary didn't know what to do, what to say – wishing she could ease his pain, somehow. Clarkson had said, she remembered, that he'd carry a bruise on his spine for the rest of his life – it must have knocked, somehow, as Willow had stumbled. She looked around – there was nothing, no-one – she couldn't possibly leave him to go for help! Moistening her suddenly dry lips, she watched him carefully, rubbing his hand.

After a few deep, heaving breaths though, Matthew seemed to settle slightly. The frightened pounding of Mary's heart finally slowed as he seemed to… chuckle to himself, before it cut off in a low hiss of discomfort.

"What is it?" A slight, nervous laugh left her lips – more a reaction of anxiety than any humour.

"Darling I was just – thinking, how strangely – familiar this seems." His eyes blinked open at her, shining as he braved a weak, trembling smile.

"Oh!" Her lips pressed into a fond, sympathetic expression. "I admit, I was just thinking the same."

"Hmm." Matthew's eyes closed again, his face etched with the effort of ignoring each aching twinge. Another moment passed, and they opened again, surveying Mary beside him as the corners of his lips twitched up, just a little.

"Hmm?" Her head tilted in curiosity.

"You're always so – elegant, darling." His voice broke in little gasps as he concentrated on steady breathing. "And you've – seen me flat on my back – more times than I'm sure you should've!"

"Perhaps," she smiled, as a gentle blush tinted her cheeks. His grip on her hand had softened, now, and her firm, reassuring squeezes softened to caresses. "But I'm quite happy to, dearest – I was then, and I always will be."

She spoke (of course) of her resolve to be unperturbed if his back were ever to cause him problems again – she'd said 'on any terms', and she'd meant it! It required no resolve, anyway – it _was_ healed, of course there was risk of episodes like this, but it wasn't the slightest bother to her to care for him… But at Matthew's gentle smirk she suddenly realised how her words might have sounded following his, and she rushed on as if to pass over it.

"Anyway!" she breezed, leaning forwards slightly over him. "I'm glad I can care for you now, in a way that I couldn't, then."

"Oh my darling, please don't –"

"No, I mean…" Leaning down further, her eyes fluttered closed as she pressed a soft, delicate kiss to his lips. "Like that," she whispered.

"Oh."

All at once, the pain didn't seem quite so sharp any more. His eyes followed Mary as she smirked, stood up and went to tie the horses to a nearby tree, bringing their picnic lunch back with her. She sat beside him once more, rearranging her skirts carefully.

"Well, we may as well take our lunch stop now!" she shrugged, pleased to see Matthew's face light with a smile. "How is it?"

"Getting better, now I'm still." He reached for her hand again, and laced his fingers through hers.

"Good. Please, darling, just tell me if I can help."

"I will." He sighed, carefully. "I'll certainly need help getting up again, in a while!"

"Of course." They'd take it slowly back. They weren't too far from a local tenant's farm; Matthew could wait there while she rode back to fetch the car, it wouldn't take so long if she went directly…

"For now, darling –"

"Mm?"

Matthew blinked up at her, smiling tenderly.

"You might," he almost whispered, "take my mind off it, again."

"Oh… Well, anything to help you, my love," she smiled – and kissed him again.

**The End!**

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><p>AN: _Thanks so much for reading!_ _Feedback is always enormously appreciated! :)_


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